


Put Your Money Where Your Dick Is

by toobusy2write



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Glam Rock RPF
Genre: M/M, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-28
Updated: 2011-07-28
Packaged: 2017-10-21 21:03:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/229831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toobusy2write/pseuds/toobusy2write
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam doesn't pay much attention to what's actually in his bank account, but when he's tweeted a link to a Forbes article stating how much he made in the last year, he gets a little fixated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Put Your Money Where Your Dick Is

**Author's Note:**

> _Disclaimer :_ Not mine, not for profit...just borrowing them to get the plot bunny that invaded my brain to shut up already.  
>  _Beta'd :_ by pinkvelvet0x  
>  _A/N #1 :_ For wbaker5286's [**prompt**](http://glam-kink.livejournal.com/1444.html?thread=2204068#t2204068) over at [**glam_kink**](http://glam-kink.livejournal.com/): [**this article**](http://www.forbes.com/pictures/eeel45ekei/3-adam-lambert-6-million-tie) says Adam made $6million. i want a fic with him rolling around in a pile of money & getting off on it, please  
>  _A/N #2 :_ Also for the [**kink_bingo**](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/) **prompt:** sex toys (non-penetrating) - I'm going with the pervertables angle here. ;)  
>  _SETTING :_ Takes place in current canon

Adam wasn't even sure what had prompted him to do it, really. He wasn't materialistic … much. Sure he had expensive tastes in clothes, and he lived in an expensive house in the Hills, and yeah, he liked to throw parties and _that_ got expensive at times but, you know, money wasn't his god or anything.

Standing naked next to the bed, Adam reached out and petted a few bills near the edge of the mattress as he bit his bottom lip. They sure were a pretty shade of green, though. With a little glitter… He shook off the thought. Even though glitter was sexy, glitter and sex didn't actually go together that well. He'd learned that the hard way.

Gaze flickering over his bed, he couldn't help but be a little awed by the sight. Twenty dollar bills were strewn everywhere, completely covering his duvet—three thousand of them to be exact. One percent of what he'd earned in the last year.

When he'd seen that Forbes article, he'd been floored. Sure, he knew he was doing well. Management sent him statements on a regular basis, but numbers weren't really his strong point and like he'd said, money wasn't his god. So, he'd put his mom in charge of his finances early on and passed everything money related that he received to her.

And then that article came out and he was linked to it on twitter and he couldn't help but look. He'd stared and stared at the number. He'd thought back to all the work he'd put in over the past year, all the stress and strain and exhilaration and joy and how it had been his dream for _so long_ to be able to make a living doing what he loved. And now he was. The evidence was right there in black and white. True, the proof was all around him, like the house and the clothes and the paps and the credit cards he wasn't even sure had limits tucked away in his wallet, but seeing the number there, like that… It had driven the fact home that he'd made it. He'd really _made it_.

He hadn't even been all that shocked when he started to get a little hard at the thought. He'd just reached down and palmed himself, closing his eyes as he pictured what six million dollars probably looked like. How much of it there would be. He figured if he piled it all up in a mound he could probably jump off his roof into it like kids jumped into piles of dead leaves in the fall.

Then, as he rubbed his cock through his jeans, he'd found himself wondering if six million dollars would fill up his pool. He'd pictured himself swimming through the money, not really caring about the fact that he'd have to break several laws of physics to actually _swim_ in money, starting with density and buoyancy.

Somewhere between the hand job he was giving himself and the image of money sliding across his bare skin as he swam through it, the fantasy had switched from curiously intrigued to sexually charged. And suddenly, suddenly Adam had needed to make fantasy reality like he needed air.

That was how he'd found himself in the bank, standing in line, trying to decide exactly how much to withdraw. He'd considered calling his mom to have her take it out for him for all of a second before common sense kicked in and he realized she'd want an explanation. She would anyway, he knew, since she saw all his bank statements, but he'd worry about that later.

Just before his turn at the counter, he'd finally settled on one percent. Ten percent would have been much cooler, but after consulting the calculator on his phone, he realized that would have been six hundred thousand dollars, and yeah. No. Even if he had that much liquid in his account at the moment, trying to explain six hundred thousand dollars to his mom would be a hell of a lot harder than sixty thousand. So … one percent it was.

The teller had looked at him a little funny when he asked to withdraw that much money all in new twenties—if he was going to do this, he wasn't doing it with money someone else had maybe rubbed all over _their_ bodies—but he'd just smiled and charmed her and before he knew it, he was walking out of the bank with a lot of fucking cash in the backpack he'd used while on tour. It had just seemed fitting somehow. His heart had pounded in his chest the whole way home, sure he was going to get robbed or carjacked or something. But none of that had happened and now here he was, alone with his money.

He wasn't sure where exactly to start, but he figured getting on the bed was probably a good idea. The minute he laid down in the middle of the crisp, crinkling bills, the scent of paper and printing ink wafted up around him and he inhaled, closing his eyes. It smelled good; nothing like the dirty grungy bills he'd had to count out of the tip jar after some of his singing gigs.

As good as it smelled, it felt even better. He hadn't been sure what he expected the money to feel like against his skin, but the way it caressed his bare back as he slid around a little to get comfortable and the way it tickled his thighs and calves as he debated whether to bend his knees and plant his feet or just lay flat, hadn't quite been it.

He wasn't complaining, though, and neither was his dick. It had deflated somewhere between sitting in his chair imagining swimming in money, and driving down the highway trying to remember where the hell the nearest branch of his bank even was, which was probably a good thing. Erections in public were frowned upon … not that that had ever stopped him before. Now, however, Adam welcomed it back with a helping hand, fondling his balls as his dick filled and lengthened until it was standing at attention once again.

 _Yeah_ , Adam thought to himself, lifting his hips a little. _Now we're talking_.

He started slow, stroking himself lazily, eyes closed. He inhaled again, groaning at the smell of the money. He couldn't quite believe he was getting off over money—either literally or figuratively—but he never had been one to limit himself and he wasn't going to start now.

Needing more than to just lie on top of it, he reached out with his free hand and grabbed a handful of it, listening to it crumple in his hands. More of that inky smell hit his senses and he lifted the handful to his face, inhaling deeply.

The hand on his cock quickened slightly and Adam tipped his head back, pressing the twenties to his neck, shivering a little as they rubbed over sensitive skin. Adam ran his hand down his throat and over his chest, dragging some of the bills with it, leaving others to scatter and lay against his skin, teasingly tickling his flesh every time he shifted on the bed.

Adam ran out of bills halfway between his chest and his stomach and quickly reached over beside him to grab more. The crunch as he fisted a handful of them made his dick twitch. When he pressed them to his skin, picking up where he left off just above his waist, Adam moaned, mouth falling open a little as he jacked himself faster, hand tightening around his erection. He pushed the twenties down over his stomach and around in circles as if it was pooled up come he was rubbing into his flesh.

Well on his way to the finish line now, Adam grabbed another handful of bills and let his legs fall open, bent at the knees. Forcing his hips to still, Adam worked the twenties down the inside of the leg he could reach and back again, toward his crotch until he was _there_ —right there—new, crumpled bills trapped between his hand and his balls and _fuck_. It was too rough, too much friction against such sensitive skin but he couldn't seem to stop.

He stroked his dick with one hand and squeezed and massaged his balls with the other, every movement of his hand making the bills crunch, the sound competing with his labored breathing and throaty moans. He shuddered from _too much_ , and _oh my God_ , and _feels fucking amazing_.

The question of why he was only rubbing the money over his balls crossed his mind, and as fast as he thought it, he let go of his dick, gasping at the sudden loss of sensation. He opened his eyes and lifted his head to stare down at it as it swayed in the air above his stomach, the tip glistening with pre-come. Blindly, he reached to the side and grabbed several twenties, being careful not to crease them this time. He hesitated for a split second, wondering briefly what the fuck he was thinking, but then, he always had liked a bit of teeth with his blowjobs, so maybe it wouldn't be _too_ rough.

Taking a deep breath, Adam wrapped the handful of bills around his cock and moaned, head dropping back, eyelids fluttering shut. Experimentally, he shifted his hips, thrusting up into his hand. He gasped, a shudder of pleasure racing through him, heating his skin and hardening his dick even more. Fuck. It was sensation overload. The bills were just rough enough to feel it, but smooth enough that his dick slid through them easily.

Wanting to watch, needing to see what he was doing to himself, Adam planted his feet against the mattress and pushed himself up the bed, bracing himself on his elbows so he could shove up the extra few inches he needed. His shoulders and head landed on the mound of pillows at the top of his bed and then he was spreading his legs wide again, money sliding off his chest and stomach as he panted and worked his hips up into his hands. Hands that were holding money. Money he'd earned with sweat and tears and the drive to live his dream.

Adam groaned, feeling his balls draw up. Almost there, he tightened his hand and sped up his thrusts until he was sweating, twenties sticking to his back and ass every time he lifted his hips. He groaned, letting go of his balls to reach up and rub the money around that was still on top of him. He pressed harder when he rubbed them over his nipples, jerking and panting when the edge of a bill caught and scraped over one nipple just right.

He thumbed the slit in his dick with his other hand, dragging the pre-come pooled there down over the side of his dick, then pushed the money still circling his erection up over it, heat washing through him as he felt the sticky liquid smear between his skin and the bills. One of the twenties shifted just right in his hand and it was the feel of it rubbing up the underside of his shaft and catching on the sensitive ridge at the base of the head of his cock that finally sent Adam over the edge, body seizing up, come shooting everywhere, slicking the bills in his hand as he furiously jacked his dick through his orgasm.

When he finally stopped coming, Adam sank back down into the bed, more bills crinkling under him and sticking to his sweat-slicked skin. Releasing himself, he let his hand fall to his side. He sucked in lungfuls of air as he stared at the ceiling.

The fleeting thought that what he'd just done might be considered a little messed up by most people's standards flickered through his head, but fuck it. He was pretty sure that had been part of what had gotten him off. He laughed quietly to himself, imagining the looks he'd get if anyone knew.

Once his fingers and toes stopped tingling and his breathing returned somewhat to normal, Adam lifted his head and looked down at the mess he'd made. Wrinkled twenties covered in come dotted his stomach and there was a stray bill stuck to the side of his dick, hanging off it obscenely.

Adam glanced at his hand and winced. It was covered in come too, bills stuck to it everywhere. Damn. He was going to have to clean that up. Looking around the bed, he decided his best option would probably be to stuff all the money in pillow cases and toss them in the washer. No way was he taking them back to the bank like _this_. Still weak from orgasm, Adam promised himself he'd get right on that just as soon as his legs stopped feeling like jelly.

Settling back against the pillows, Adam grinned, picking up another handful of bills from the bed with his clean hand. Lifting them high above his stomach, he uncurled his fingers and watched them rain down on top of him, adding to the mess. A shiver of pleasure washed through him as one of the bills whispered across the head of his dick before settling in a puddle of goo just to the side of it. His eyes slid shut and he let himself sink into post orgasmic bliss, one thought drifting through his head.

It had _so_ been worth the mess.

   

 _-Fin_


End file.
